"Damn Bobby, you really need to organize this stuff better. There's like two hundred books here. How am I suppose to find anything?" Dean asked as he browsed the shelves in Bobby's office. He occasionally pulled one out and flipped through it before returning it to its place.
"Well sorry" Bobby dragged out the word in sarcastic emphasis. "I'm too busy helping you idjits with every damn D-list monster to figure out the demon decimal system."
"I'm just sayin' we'd be out of here a lot quicker if we could find what we need," said Dean. "Maybe Sammy could help you! He loves this kind of stuff, dontcha Sammy?"
"It ain't that bad," Bobby huffed.
"I wouldn't mind helping," Sam piped up, "Really, it wouldn't be too hard to do. Organize the sections by type of monster or geographic region of origin. And it would be a lot easier."
"Have at it, then. If it'll make y'all happy," Bobby said as he stood up from his desk. He left the room into the kitchen.
Dean put down the book he was looking at to watch Bobby leave. He turned to Sam and said "Whelp, I should go help him. You have fun now. Try not to nerd-gasm too hard. Can't have you getting hurt."
Sam watched his older brother quickly hurry out of the room. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, he started pulling books off the shelf and moving them to the center of the room to be organized and reshelved.
About half-way through, as he took down one of the higher shelves, an envelope fell out and landed at his feet. Sam picked it up and looked it over.
It was addressed to him, but the name was written in large, rough cursive letters, as if by a child. The address was Bobby's and printed much neater, clearly by a separate person.
Sam took the envelope into the kitchen were Dean and Bobby were sitting at the table, each with a glass of whiskey, laughing at a joke Sam had missed.
"Heya, Sammy. Done already?" Dean asked.
"Uh, no. I just found this when I was going through the shelves and wondered if Bobby knew what it was," Sam said and handed the envelope across the wooden table to Bobby.
"Well, it looks like a letter," Bobby answered after looking at the envelope for a few seconds.
"I know that. But what is it doing here. Who is it from? Did you open it at all?" Sam asked.
"I think it came awhile ago. Right after you went to college. I would have sent it to you, but I didn't have your address. And you and John weren't exactly on the best of terms at the time. I guess I forgot about it. Why don't you open it now," Bobby answered and passed the letter back.
Sam took the envelope and carefully ripped it open. He unfolded the single sheet of lined 3-hole punch paper to reveal a handwritten letter. It was clearly written by a child based on the sloppy handwriting.
Sam remembered suddenly. Way back in 3rd grade, while he'd been at an elementary school (Missouri?), the class had just finished learning cursive. As a practice exercise the teacher had everyone write a letter to their future selves. The teacher had promised to mail the letters in ten years to the address they provided. At the time, Sam had given Bobby's address because he didn't have a permanent address himself, but even then he didn't think the teacher would actually follow through.
Apparently the teacher had done as promised and the letter arrived at Bobby's house ten years after he wrote it. Which would now be almost 14 years ago. How much had he changed since then?
Dear future Sam,
When you read this you will be 19 years old. How are you? Is Dean still a jerk? Do you have a dog? What kind of dog is it? What did you name it? I think kansas would be a cool name. Or bones. Bones is a tough name. If it's a girl you can name it Mary.
Do you have a house? Do you have your own room? What is it like? I bet it's nice to have your own bed. and you never have to share with Dean. He is a jerk.
How is the family busines? Mayby one day you can quit. You can go to harvard and get a job and live on a farm and have 100 dogs. All you will do is take care of the dogs and love them. You won't have to move every week. and if Dad or Dean asks you to hunt you can say NO!
I am runing out of paper now. I have to end the letter.
From,
You.